Lo, They Will Snog
by Elektra3
Summary: An utterly ridiculous Draco/Hermione story wherein I shamelessly lambaste the entire romance genre. Featuring much snogging, a blatant lack of believable characterization - oh, and did I mention the Irritatingly Sappy Love That Dares Not Speak Its Name?
1. The Rather Pissed Off Author's Note

Some of my reviewers (courtesy forbids me from saying "illiterate flamers who are too stupid to understand either the genre, the summary, or the goddamn author's note") seem to be a bit unclear on the underlying concept of this fic, so I'll make a blanket statement here:

This.

Is.

A.

Parody.

Yes, folks, a parody. It is _intentionally_ bad. It is _intentionally_ stupid. I am _making fun_ of all the bad romance fics out there; don't think for a minute that I take this fic seriously. That's why (surprise, surprise) I set the genre at Romance/Parody. And if you don't understand what "parody" (hint: one of its synonyms is "satire") means, I heartily suggest that you get a dictionary and look it up.

That's all.


	2. It Begins

I know, I know, another project… *ducks shower of rotten fruit* Gah! I can't help it – the plot bunnies keep attacking me!

Anyway, a word before we begin: No offense whatsoever is intended to Draco/Hermione shippers. I'm lambasting the entire romance genre, not your ship. (I mean, if I had wanted to use a ship that I _really_ couldn't stand, this would have been a Harry/Hermione story.) *grins viciously* It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.

Disclaimer: Oh, don't mind me. I'm just playing with J.K. Rowling's kids.

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Draco woke up one morning and decided that he was madly in love with Hermione. This was, of course, completely believable, as it is perfectly normal for people to spontaneously fall madly in love with another person who has previously been one's enemy, and with whom one has absolutely nothing in common. But that's another story.

Whatever the relative plausibility of the emotion, however, Draco woke up and immediately fell in love with Hermione. "Hmm," he mused, showcasing the author's spectacularly inept grasp of human-sounding dialogue, "I seem to be in love with Hermione. Oh, whatever shall I do? I'd better ask my sweet, loving, emotionally-neglected mother for advice about dealing with this doomed love affair with my sweet Hermione." He thought about it. "Actually, I think I'll have breakfast first." At this point, Draco spent approximately six or seven pages rhapsodizing about Hermione's previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, his overwhelming love for the aforementioned figure of previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, and his newfound desire to spend the rest of his life raising cute bunnies and frolicking in sunny meadows. Tragically, however, the speech was omitted in an incomprehensible fluke of editing, and lost forever in the Great Abyss of Beta-Reading; suffice it to say that Draco proceeded to spend the next six or seven pages rhapsodizing about Hermione's previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, his overwhelming love for the aforementioned figure of previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, and his newfound desire to spend the rest of his life raising cute bunnies and frolicking in sunny meadows.

That settled, Draco made his tragic way out into the corridor. The readers braced themselves for a shower of florid description, but it was not to be. The author merely contented herself with saying that the corridor was ornate, and it was amidst this array of expensive-looking… erm, ornateness that Draco went to breakfast. Love had utterly eclipsed his desire for… well, no, that's not totally accurate, he actually was rather hungry at this point…

As the author was saying before she was so _rudely_ interrupted, Draco's newfound-yet-overwhelming love for the divinely beautiful Hermione consumed the whole of his being as utterly as a hyperactive goat would consume a low-hanging laundry line. Not that either Draco or the lovely, kindhearted, generally perfect, etc. Hermione looked or acted anything at all like a hyperactive goat. The two lovers were as ungoatlike as ungoatlike could be. As Draco, in uncharacteristically poetic terms, pondered the meaning of their perfect love (for surely the lovely, kindhearted, generally perfect, etc. Hermione would grow to love him as passionately as he did her, as true as the tides, so pure as to be divinely inspired, so magical it eclipsed any mundane spells, and a lot of other good stuff like that) and their utter ungoatlikeness, he can surely be forgiven for being so caught up in his perfect love for Hermione that he accidentally walked into a large obstacle. By some horrendously unfortunate chance this turned out to be his father, who looked at him in annoyance. "Draco, you haven't been falling madly in love again, have you?"

"No, sir." He could only hope that his love for Hermione didn't radiate from the depths of his misunderstood soul.

Lucius looked at him suspiciously, but didn't seem to be aware of Draco's angst-ridden secret – no doubt because Draco had prudently stuck his "I'M IN LOVE WITH HERMIONE GRANGER" sign behind his back. "Good. Keep it that way."

Several lines of rather dull and unimportant dialogue later, Draco made his way to the dining room to have breakfast.

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And what will happen now? Will Lucius find out? How will Narcissa react? Will Draco reveal his love to Hermione? And does he like his eggs poached or scrambled? Find out in the next exciting installment of "Lo, They Shall Snog"!


	3. In Which Our Heroine Is OOC

Well, I admit that I was rather blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thirty-four reviews in one go! *cheers*

At any rate, the horror continues. Hermione makes her grand entrance, and this fic is discovered to have a plot… sort of.

Disclaimer: Not only do I own Harry Potter, I've recently decided that in the fifth book, Harry will discover that the reason Voldemort wanted to kill him was because he (Voldemort, not Harry) was jealous of Harry's preternatural banjo-playing abilities; Ron will conveniently drop off the face of the earth so that Hermione can fall madly in love with Harry and/or Draco, although she will eventually elope with Lucius Malfoy so that he can get revenge on Narcissa for her illicit affair with Gilderoy Lockhart; Rita Skeeter will be revealed to be the Heir of Gryffindor; Snape will get a makeover, a sex change, and start insisting that everyone call him (her?) Ma Petite Framboise; Dumbledore will resign as Headmaster and buy a casino in Monte Carlo; Draco, embittered by the loss of Hermione's love, will move to Idaho and become a potato farmer; Sirius will be acquitted when Peter Pettigrew is arrested for illegally importing bratwurst to Chile; and Voldemort will give up on world domination and spend the remainder of the series training to be a pastry chef. Now, aren't you glad that I don't _really_ own this series?

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Hermione, having exhausted her entire library (and her parents' libraries, and the town library, and every other collection of books within a hundred mile radius), was practicing her soulful pining. She wasn't entirely sure what she was pining _for,_ to be honest, but she was absolutely sure that she was pining for something.

At least she would be if her mother would only stop tapping on the door. It was getting quite annoying. And so _distracting._ Honestly, couldn't a girl be angsty in peace? "Mum!" she yelled finally. "Go away! I'm being melodramatic and out of character!"

The tapping stopped. "Are you sure?" her mother yelled back. "I thought this was the scene where we have a touching heart-to-heart talk about your tangled love life." Idly, Hermione wondered why her mother was yelling, as the door wasn't really all that thick, but she quickly put that thought out of her mind. _Ooh, this might turn out to be a dramatic confrontation scene! All ad-libbed, too!_

"No, that's not until one of the last chapters."

There was a pause, and then the sound of shuffling paper. "Oh, right," Mum said finally. "Can you excuse me, dear? I'm running a bit behind. I was scheduled to have dropped off the face of the earth a few hours ago."

"That's all right," Hermione said magnanimously. "See you at the epilogue, then?"

"Goodbye, dear," Mum said cheerfully, and, with a crash, fell through a conveniently large plot hole.

That settled, Hermione went back to pining. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Whatever shall I pine for? I don't know what to do." Then, for the overall convenience of the author, inspiration suddenly struck her.

Metaphorically, of course.

"That's it!" she cried, prompting Crookshanks to dive under the bed and stuff his paws in his ears. "I'll just look in Ron's conveniently-misplaced-and-mysteriously-not-returned-yet Divination textbook for a random prophecy to follow even though I believe that Divination is complete nonsense! Oh, what a brilliant idea this is!" With trembling hands (as it is a scientific fact that it is physically impossible to read a prophecy with hands that are completely stationary), she opened the book to a random page in the "Famous Prophecies" section and read:

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The Prophecy of Whatnot

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This terse prophecy was spoken by the famous Seer Gabubafintaminky Karlaweltonanomince. Most noted for his unusual practices of spiritual cleansing, such as garnishing meat dishes for twenty-four hours without rest, and meditating only in thirty-year-old chicken coops, Karlaweltonanomince first spoke the words of this prophecy to his son, Sabubafintaminko, who then lovingly inscribed it on a piece of sheet metal in sheep entrails. The words are as follows:

__

BEHOLD! It shall come to pass that in the darkest of hours, on the darkest of days, in the darkest of weeks, in the darkest of months, in the darkest of years, it shall come to pass that it will come to pass that the One Who Is Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very Brainy will come to love the Silver Dragon with a passion that knows no bounds. And LO, they will snog!

Hermione sighed, closing the book. She couldn't be the One Who Is Very, Very, Very, Very, Very… oh, never mind – could she?

Well, probably not, but for the sake of her pining practice, she could endure anything. Now, who did she know that could be described as the Silver Dragon…?

Humming happily to herself – but in a pining sort of way, of course – Hermione set to her task with a will.

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Three hours later (Crookshanks, she noticed, had finally come back out from under the bed, and was cautiously taking his paws out of his ears) she let out an enormous shriek. (Crookshanks immediately dived back under the bed.) "THAT'S IT!" she cried, overjoyed at having figured it out. "I'M SUPPOSED TO FALL MADLY IN LOVE WITH MALFOY!" She thought about it. "Ugh, _Malfoy?"_

Well, at least she would be good at pining by the time it was over. Sighing, too. She'd have to ask Ginny for help…

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Next chapter: We get our first introduction to CompleteBastard!Ron, while Harry, bless his little cotton socks, is utterly clueless about the whole thing. Stay tuned!


	4. A Cavity Inducing Love As Old As Time

Slight change of plans here. I've decided that, as an extra-special bonus to all my lovely reviewers, this chapter is also going to contain Draco and Hermione's first snog! *dabs tears from eyes* Also, Neville makes a cameo. Be sure to enjoy it, since you're not ever going to see him again. And finally, whenever you wonder where any random people and objects come from, the answer is always this: Why, through the plot hole, of course! (Powerful things, plot holes…)

Oh! One more thing. Concerning CompleteBastard!Ron: Don't worry, he'll get eviler as the story goes on. Right now, though, he's not really a bad person, as he hasn't had time to go mad with jealousy because of the perfect love between Hermione and Draco. I'll do everything I can to speed the process along, though… *cackles*

Disclaimer: Add one part original fiction to two parts plagiarism. Mix well and serve with a godawful plot, lousy characterization, bad grammar, a crummy title, and an even worse summary; garnish with the name "fanfiction" and a disclaimer that states that you absolutely, positively, and… eh, I can't be arsed to think of another synonym right now, but the point is that I don't own Harry Potter or any of the related characters. Confused? Good.

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"So," Hermione concluded, beaming at Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) and Ron, "I've decided that it would be a good idea for me to fall madly in love with Malfoy. Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) could only stare at her in shock, but Ron immediately exploded. "You think _what? _He's _Malfoy,_ for Merlin's sake!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "You're not being fair! Just because he's spent the past four years being a complete jerk without any visible redeeming qualities doesn't mean that he's a bad person! I'm sure that he's just misunderstood."

"And I'm sure that You-Know-Who is just lashing out at the world because he has lingering emotional scars from being an orphan!"

"Hey," Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) protested weakly.

"Oh, sorry," Ron said absently, not taking his eyes off of Hermione. "But honestly, Hermione, what are you _thinking?"_

"Well, maybe I'm not thinking!" Hermione said shrilly. "Maybe love is blind! And I'll have you know, Mr. Honestly-Hermione-What-Are-You-Thinking, that I have every right to randomly fall in love with any stuck-up jerk I want to!"

"Well, if you're talking about falling in love with Malfoy, love isn't just blind, it's deaf, mute, and brain-damaged!"

_"Are you saying that I'm brain-damaged!"_

"No," Ron retorted. "But if you keep this up, I might change my mind – Ow!" He rubbed his right cheek, which Hermione had just caught in a ringing slap. "What was that for?"

"If you don't know, _I'm_ certainly not going to tell you," Hermione said loftily, and turned to Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) with a hopeful expression. "Harry, you're on my side, aren't you?"

"Er – " Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) said articulately.

"See, Hermione," Ron cut in, "he doesn't agree with you. He thinks it's a stupid idea, don't you, Harry?"

"Er – " Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) said again. Privately he agreed with Ron, but he wasn't about to risk the slightly manic expression in Hermione's eyes. "I think it's great that you're in love," he began diplomatically, "but – "

"See?" Hermione said, smirking at Ron triumphantly. _"See?_ Harry agrees with me!"

"No he doesn't! You just cut him off before he could say that he thinks you're completely cracked!"

"Or maybe he didn't get a chance to say that you're being an insufferable prat!"

Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) decided that in this case discretion would be the better part of valor, and quietly crawled beneath his seat. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed.

" – And I _still_ can't understand why you object so much to my being in love with Draco, Ron – "

"Oh, so it's _Draco_ now? What's next, Ickle Drakiepoo?"

"Well, I can't very well continue calling him by his surname, can I? Especially since it'll eventually be _my_ surname."

Dead silence. Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable explosion.

He didn't have to wait for long.

_"You want to **marry** that git?!?"_

"Oh, as if you had any say in how I live my life!"

"No, but I'm allowed to say that I think that the groom-to-be is a bigoted idiot!"

_"He is not a bigoted idiot!"_

"Of course not! He just calls you an M – a Mu – that _word_ because he's a sweet, tolerant person!"

"How do you know he isn't?"

"How do you know he _is?"_

"Because he has to be misunderstood! I'm not even going to argue with you anymore – " That lofty tone again. " – because you're being an insufferable, intolerant… _boy_ without the decency to support his best friend when she falls in love. I'm leaving now." And with that, Hermione marched out of the compartment, her nose in the air.

Ron stared after her for a minute, muttering to himself. "Insufferable and intolerant… huh, I'll show _her_… I'll show them all… hey!" His eyes had just fallen on Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul), crouched under the seat. "What are you doing there?"

"Nothing, Ron," Harry (bless his sweet, noble, long-suffering soul) said quite truthfully. "Nothing at all."

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Hermione waited until she was well away from the compartment before bursting into tears because of the injustice with which she had been treated. Oh, wicked, wicked world! Oh, the bitter agony of it all! Oh, the uncharacteristically flowery descriptive phrases that she normally never would have thought in a million years!

Love, it seemed, did very weird things to a person.

"Oh, Draco," she sobbed to the empty corridor, "where are you? I simply can't live without you despite having lived quite happily for eleven years without even being aware of your existence and then for four more years thinking that you were a worthless waste of oxygen!"

"Never fear, sweet lady," said a voice from behind her.

Hardly daring to hope, Hermione turned around. There, kneeling on one knee and holding out a bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands, was…

"Neville!" she hissed. Honestly, didn't these people _ever_ read the script? "You're spoiling Draco's entrance!"

Neville Longbottom, for indeed it was he, stood up and frowned. "But I thought this was the fic where we fall in love after I save you from the herd of mutant Peruvian iguanas."

"No, no, no," Hermione said impatiently. "That one's in the third compartment to your left. And for heaven's sake, Neville, the mutant iguanas are from _Brazil,_ not Peru."

He slapped one hand to his forehead, dropping the flowers. "Oh, right. Sorry about that." And with that, Neville raced off in the general direction of the third compartment on the left – a surprisingly long distance, given the fact that it wasn't really a very long hallway. But we must forgive these minor spacing errors, as the rather excessively long period of time it took for Neville to enter the proper compartment gave Draco (who had been running late, as he had stopped three times on the way to King's Cross in order to write some spectacularly atrocious love poems) enough time to sneak up behind Hermione and strike a dramatic pose, complete with adoring expression. Never mind the fact that Draco's face wasn't really suited for adoring expressions – actually, it wasn't even particularly well suited to expressions of mild approval. But for the sake of the Moment, let's just forget about whose face is best suited for what and get on with the story, hmm?

Anyway, as Draco struck an appropriately dramatic pose, Hermione turned around, smiling dreamily as she saw who it was. Finally, blessed relevance! "Oh, Draco," she sighed. "You're here."

Draco's expression grew even more adoring. Several fangirls passed out from sheer ecstasy. "Hermione, my love," he breathed. "You're even more beautiful than when I last saw you."

Hermione blushed. Who would ever have guessed that a spoiled, sneering bigot could make up lines that would make a Regency novel proud? "I dreamed of this day," she sighed again, not to be outdone. "I've always loved you, even though you've treated me like dirt for the past four years and I've always acted like I thought you were the scum of the earth."

"And I," he whispered, "have always adored you even though I've always made a point of calling you the most insulting names I could think of."

"Oh, I'm so glad we agree about this," Hermione said happily. Then, because the author had gotten heartily sick of writing cavity-inducing dialogue, she said, "Now kiss me, you fool!"

"Oh, yes," he breathed, and touched his soft lips to hers.

Some five minutes later, when she could finally think coherently again, something occurred to her. "Sweetie pumpkin?"

"Yes, my little honey bunches of oats?"

"Why are we kissing in the middle of a hallway?"

He shrugged, a task made considerably more difficult by the fact that her arms were twined firmly around his neck. "I'm not really sure… romantic momentum, maybe?"

"Well, why don't we find an abandoned compartment so that this chapter doesn't go above a PG rating?"

He looked deeply into her eyes. The fangirls, who were just being revived, promptly passed out again. "My love, has anyone ever told you that you're brilliant?"

"Well, the fact that I've been at the top of my class every year since I came to Hogwarts was sort of an indication, yes. But if you're referring to my skill in picking out good places to snog, then yes, you're the first person to point that out."

"Oh," he said rather sheepishly. Well, why don't we go, then?"

"Oh, Draco," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder – a rather impressive feat, given the fact that he was still about five inches shorter than her. "I'm so lucky to have you."

And so, as our hero and heroine snogged passionately in an abandoned compartment, Fate peeked in to make sure that the Prophecy of Whatnot was being fulfilled properly – for professional reasons, you understand.

Then she blushed and looked away.

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Next chapter: The plot sickens… er, thickens. Lucius reveals his Very Wicked Plan To Tear The Lovers Apart™, Ron mutters in dark corners, Harry discovers the therapeutic value of banging one's head against the wall, and Filch makes a completely gratuitous cameo.


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